


The Boy-Who-Is-Sometimes-Alive

by WILDSPARK_PRIME



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Ghost Harry Potter, M/M, huffelpuff harry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-16
Updated: 2021-01-21
Packaged: 2021-03-10 07:22:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 4,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27589499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WILDSPARK_PRIME/pseuds/WILDSPARK_PRIME
Summary: As longs as Harry can remember having a body was optional to him, honestly he prefers being a ghost. It's a lot less of a hassle.  No need to eat, or sleep and the best part was that he couldn't be hurt. Being a Ghost was his escape. Then he learns he's a wizard. Apparently he can't even do that normally.
Relationships: Neville Longbottom/Harry Potter
Comments: 64
Kudos: 340





	1. First time for everything

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I have a fanfiction a count in witch you can PM me for relevant questions and in for, I do not post stories there but I do collect them. The amount is also under the same name so it's relatively easy to find. Please do not use it to flame me.

Harry was three years old the first time he died. Or, at least the first time he remembers dying. It was quite humiliating really. Death by ice cream truck. Not unexpected, considering the company he is forced to be around, but death wasn't what he thought it would be. Then again he was three years old, what did you expect.

One moment he was picking weeds on the sidewalk like his Aunt had told him to and the next he was flying forward, landing face first in the road. Then, he was flying once again as the ice cream truck, the one he had heard coming, stuck him.

Dudley had also heard the ice cream truck and really, _really,_ wanted one. He promptly trew a tantrum of massive proportions when his parents told him no. He ran out of the house just as the truck was about to drive pass, determined to get his ice cream. It wasn't his fault the freak was in his way. It wasn't his fault he had wanted the freak as far away from him as he could get and shoved the dirty, stinky freak away. It wasn't his fault that the freak landed in front of the truck and was hit. If anything it was his parents fault for not wanting to give him ice cream.

~

Being a ghost was odd. He didn't feel like anything was dragging him down, like he use to feel. Nothing was keeping him from floating away. Staring at the panicked ice cream man, was funny at first but he quickly grew bored of it. Looking at what he knew to be his body even though he wasn't currently in it, made Harry uneasy. There was a lot of blood. Aunt Petunia was crying, holding a wailing Dudley, who was trying to rub the blood, that Harry was pretty sure was once Harry's of off his face. Uncle Vernon was shouting at the ice cream man. He was very loud. And angry. He was turning that shade of purple that meant Harry was in big trouble.

Harry didn't like it. Maybe he wasn't suppose to be out of his body? Should he go back? He didn't rely want to, but he didn't want to make his uncle angrier than he was. Harry went back to his body.

When he sat up with a choked gasp his Aunt shrieked liked she wanted to wake the dead. It made Harry's head pound. Harry just really wanted to sleep. So he did.

~

_"What an interesting soul you are. Choosing living and suffering over the peace of death. I'll be keeping an eye on you young one. One day, you may wish to join me..."_


	2. Discovering oddities.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In witch Harry finds a lot of stupid ways to die.

Look, you can't blame Harry for dying. Most of the time it's not even his fault. Most of the time.

The next time he had died, wasn't all that long after his first death. Dudley was to blame for this one too. He drowned. _In. A. Toilet._

Harry would never live it down. This time he explored. He could go through walls, how cool was that? No one could see him either. He had to go back when his Aunt tried to squish his bodies chest because he was afraid she would break it. Harry didn't like broken bones. They hurt. A lot. He would know.

His third brush with death was also Dudley's fault. He had town a plate at Harry, it had smashed into the back of his head and broke into hundreds of pieces and Harry had just fallen over. Then he wasn't in his body anymore. 

Mad that Dudley kept pushing him out of his body, he left. He flew all the way to the park and stayed there. He didn't want to go back, only for Dudley to kill him again.

The sun set and the stars came out, yet Harry refused to go home like he normally would. When the sun started to rise he grudgingly made his way home, knowing he was going to be punished for not coming back in the first place.

Only, something was really wrong. His relatives were packing things in box's. Harry looked around but couldn't find his body. His Aunt Petunia looked really tired too, like she hadn't slept. Her hair was a mess as well. 

"Aunt Petunia, what's going on? Why are you packing?"

His Aunt shrieked. Then she started sobbing. Uncle Vernon came bursting around the corner.

"Pet?! Pet, what is it?"

"He's here, he's here!" She yelled histarically. 

"Who's here?"His uncle demanded, squinting around as if the culprit would jump out any second yelling, 'here I am!' At the top of their lungs.

" _The boy!"_ She hissed furiously. 

"How?" His uncle spluttered. 

"Ghost." His Aunt whispered. 

"Now, listen here boy! We fed you, clothed you and took care of you even though we didn't want to, it's not our fault you upped and got yourself killed! Leave us decent folk in peace, you hear freak?!"

The man yelled looking around frantically. 

"Got myself killed?! Got myself killed?! Dudley's the one who keeps killing me! It's the third time he's killed me! You've got a murderer as a son and you call me a freak?!"

Harry didn't wait around to hear what his uncle got to say. He was five years old, he didn't need his relatives. He went back to the park and cried. He didn't know what to do. 

_"Find your body..."_ A voice whispered.

"H - hello? Is anyone there?" 

_"Find your body..."_ The voice whispered again. It was low and raspy, it had a hollow sound to it, like the wind trough an empty tunnel.

"How? I dunno where it is!"

_"Feel the pull, follow it, find your body..."_

"Wait! Who are you?! Can you help me? Please..."

_"Find your body, little one. You mustn't be out of it for so long. I'll be here, I'm always here. Ask for my help and it is yours..."_

"Can you tell me who you are?"

_"I am Death..."_


	3. Befriending death

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In witch a not so dead boy befriends Death.

Harry liked Death. He was nice. Nicer than anyone has ever been to Harry. People aren't normally nice to Harry. So the ones that are always get a special place in his heart. Even if Death was the only one that had a place so far, he told Harry that some day he would have plenty more.

Death was smart, he knew a lot of things. He knew how to help Harry find his body. He knew how to keep Harry alive, ironically. He helped Harry find food and water while he wander his way back to people. He told the best stories and taught Harry lots of words.

Harry couldn't see Death, but that was okay, even if Death was just a voice, he was a very nice voice. He taught Harry many things of being sort of dead. As a ghost he could walk _right trough things!_ Which was awesome. He could also float higher than the trees if he wanted to. Normale people couldn't see him, but they could hear him. He could pick things up with his mind if he wanted too! It was so cool!

He also taught Harry how to get out of his body without dying. It was so much fun! Dying hurt, being a ghost was awesome though and Harry didn't want to die each time he wanted to be a ghost. Although, his haert does stop when he leaves his body, so technically, he still dies, only it doesn't hurt, witch is always a bonus!

Harry had to live in a orphanage since he didn't have a family anymore. He didn't mind all that much, the orphanage wasn't as bad as his Aunt and Uncle made it out to be. He even got his own bed! It was a lot beter than his cupboard. 

He also learned how to read! Harry liked reading a lot, he learned all sorts of things. Death liked it when Harry read to him, so Harry read lots! Harry liked spending time with his friend.

Harry learned that really, he liked a lot of things, things he never would have known if he lived with his Aunt and Uncle.

In a way, Harry was very thankful that Dudley had killed him. He was also in a strange way thankful for the way his Aunt and Uncle had treated him. Because of them he had learned to appreciate the little things in life.

Like getting to eat every day. Like not having bruises and broken bones or any aches and pains. He was very grateful of his only friend and couldn't find it in himself to be afraid of the only being who had ever shown him kindness. He felt very thankful that he got the chance to learn new things, like reading.

He would never like his relatives, no, he disliked them very much, but he is glad that they had taught him a very valuable lesson. Life was precious, sometimes even shorter than we could imagine and there was so many things we get to do and learn that a lot of other don't. 

Harry learned he couldn't take anything for granted and he promised he never would.


	4. The strange boy.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There was a strange boy in St. Anne's orphanage, a very strange boy indeed.

One day, out of the blue, a boy with green eyes and messy black hair appear in St. Anne's orphanage. 

He was a strange one no doubt. His gaze was always on the hazy side, like he wasn't all there, you know? He also slept a lot, too much for a normale child, something was definitely wrong with him, though no one knew what.

He didn't like doctors and the doctors never knew what was wrong with him, so the workers at St. Anne's stopped taking him to them, it was a waste of time and money.

The boy liked to read, more so than he liked to sleep, he always read out loud, as if he had an invisible audience. Some of the younger kids liked to gravitate to him when he read, to listen to what he read. Sometimes they liked what he read, sometimes they didn't. 

He read all kinds of books, story books, school books and completely random ones like gardening or cook books.

He was a curious boy, when he was awake to be, he asked all sorts of questions, questions that they sometimes didn't have any answers too. He liked all sorts of animals and was never afraid of any kind. From spiders and snails to chipmunks and chickens. He adored them all.

He liked to climb the trees even if he was scolded repeatedly for it. They could never get him to promise not to do it again, he'd just stare at them blankly, his gaze turning hazy as he swayed slightly on his feet, lost in his own mind once again.

He liked shiny things and had a pile of useless shiny things in the corner of his room, ranging from a bent spoon, to rocks and old springs and once a huge ball of tinfoil.

They learned the hard way to keep him very far from glitter, it would not end well.

The Matron gazed out the windows, down at her most troublesome yet least troublesome child in her care, passed out on the grass under the sun without a care in the world.

What was she going to do with him?

No one would adopted him, he was far to strange and far to disinterested in getting a new set of parents. He was calm, quite, inquisitive and loved to read. The ideal child, if you could ignore his oddness.

Yet no one could, his oddness and strange nature was the first thing people noticed about the strange boy.

No one paid much attention to his studious nature when he looked so lazy, sleeping all the time. 

No one cared how kind, caring and helpful he was when he was barely present at all, his mind too far away to reach.

No one cared enough to look past the oddness to see the good boy underneath it all.

What was she going to do with the boy? When no one cared to acknowledge him past his strangeness. 


	5. A wizard?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In witch Severus Snape has several heart attacks.

Severus followed the matriarch of St. Anne's as she weaved trough the hordes of noisy children.

"Mary!" A nun turned towards them with a slight smile and an incline of her head.

"How may I be of assistance, ma'am?"

"Have you seen young Mister Potter? He was not in his room."

Mary shook her head with a fond smile, "Outside ma'am, I saw him heading for his tree with a book earlier, he should still be there."

"Thank you, Mary."

The nun inclined het head and scurried away.

The matriarch turned out the nearest exist and climbed the small hill that was behind the orphanage. 

There under a willow tree was a small child, spread eagle and clearly not awake, a book laid closed next to him. The golden letters caught Severus' attention, ' _The Art of Dying.'_ by _'Mortemus Le Mort'_

An odd book for a child to read, or at least Severus assumed it was, he had never heard of such a book before.

"Mister Potter!" The woman yelled loudly, startling Severus out of his thoughts.

The boy drew in a deep breath, the book sliding of his chest as he did so, his eyes fluttered open, hazy green eyes stared up at the canopy of leaves above him.

"Madame Anne?" The boys voice was raspy, as if he rarely used it.

"You have a guest Mister Potter."

"I don't know anyone that doesn't live here though."

The boy sat up slowly, as he did so the sun caught ahold of his head and the silver clip holding his hair back was exposed. An odd accessory for a boy.

"It's a Professor from the school your parents attended, apparently you have been admitted to it since birth."

"Oh, how odd." His voice held a breathy quality to it, like he was barely paying attention, typical of a Potter.

"Would you like to go talk with the Professor in your room, I'm sure you've collected quite a few treasures that you might want to add to your pile."

The boy swayed as he stood and, there's no other word for it, _glided,_ towards the old woman.

He opened his small hand and held it up to her, in the palm of his hand was a coin that was missing half of itself, a bent nail, a piece of glass and a old key.

"That's quite the find you have there lad, why don't you go ahead to your room, I have to have a word with your professor before he talk to you."

"Okay," He swayed dangerously to the left for a second before he righted himself and walked on.

Severus studied the woman next to him, who stared at the boy with sad eyes.

"Be gentle with him, he's a very fragile boy, in here," She tapped her head," and in here." She tapped over her heart. 

"How so?"

"Six year ago, I found that boy, right here, under this tree, he was covered in mud, wearing nothing but rags, once we got him clean we saw that he was covered in bruises and scratches and scars. He's not all there, mentally, that is. He may be a smart boy that learns quickly if given half the chance, but it's clear as day to anyone that looks that he's a few pieces short of all the puzzle pieces. He collects shiny things for no other reason except that their pretty, he reads and talks out loud as if someone's there, he also sleeps alot, if he's not reading or looking for shiny things, he's definitely in some moderately comfortable spot, sleeping."

She paused, staring sadly to where the boy had disappeared too.

"He's a kind boy, he loves and trust easily, but once bitten, twice shy, if you betray that easy loyalty that he gives so freely, you'll never earn it back. Jack Navlin was once the first to befriend Harry, he liked it when Harry read out loud, then he took one of Harry's treasures, he refused to give it back. It's been four years now, Harry still hasn't said a word to Jack, pretends that he can't see him at all, we've tried everything to get those two to be friends again. Nothing has worked. It's as if Harry just shuts down when we tried anything. If you really want him safe in that school of yours, get him to promise you things, be specific though, he never breaks a promise and he'll never make one if he believes that he can't keep it."

Severus was left deep in thought. The boy the matriarch explained the boy did not fit the mental picture Severus had built over the years of Potter's son, then again, Potter had no influence on how the child grew at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case no one noticed, in this, Harry does not wear glasses. I'm a firm believer that spending his entire childhood in a cupboard with hardly any light is what effected his eyesight so badly.


	6. Making a friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In witch Harry makes a friend.

"O-oh, h-hello, I didn't think anyone was sitting in here... d-do you mind if I join you?"

Harry blinked up at the boy who had just entered his compartment on the train, a train that was set to go to Hogwarts. He still had some trouble believing he was a wizard, even as he twirled the wand he had bought between his fingers. It was just so unreal.

"Oh, I don't mind."

The brown haired boy's hair was fluffy. Harry wondered if the boy would let him play with his hair.

The boy ducked his head and entered the compartment hesitantly, as if afraid that Harry would chase him out at any second.

Now that Harry would. That would be rude. Harry didn't mind being rude most of the time, but the boy seemed so shy and timid already, that it just seemed _wrong_ to be rude to him. 

The boy glanced up at Harry from underneath his fluffy brown hair with wide chocolate brown hair. Harry felt his stomach clench and he suddenly had the urge to eat chocolate and a lot of it. He ignored Death laughing at him in the back of his mind.

Death laughed the him all the time for the strangest of things. Sometimes for no reason at all. Death laughing at him was really very normal.

"I-im Neville Longbottom. "

The boy, Neville, said awkwardly. 

"Nice ta meet'cha, Neville. 'M Harry. Harry Potter."

Neville sucked in a startled breath and glanced at his forehead before turning a rather lovely shade of red and glanced hastily down at his hands.

Harry decided that, while silence was nice and all, awkward silence was not nice at all. It made him rather uneasy to be truthful. He decided to break it with the first thing that came to mind.

"You have awesome hair. Super fluffy. Can I play with it?"

Neville turned wide chocolate eyes in his direction.

"Um, sure?"

Neville didn't sound all that sure but Harry had permission to touch the fluffyness, there was no going back now. He hopped onto the seat next to Neville and started to run his fingers trough the other boys hair.

"So _fluffy!_ " He whispered in awe.

"T-thank you?"

"You have awesome hair and chocolaty eyes. Like really chocolate like eyes. It's making me crave chocolate it's that close in colour. "

"Um, ah, you have nice eyes as well? Really green, like plants. I like plants." Neville told him nervously, glancing at Harry from the corner of his eye.

"Me too! I like sleeping in the grass under a tree. I once found a really shiny green leaf and I wanted to add it to my hoard of shiny things, but it turned brown and dull and started to crumble. It made me really sad." Harry mused as he tried to flatten Neville's hair, only for it to fluff up once more.

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that. Do you like shiny things?"

"Oh, yes! I like all kinds of shiny things, but people usually calls it junk and throws it away. I don't like it when people throw things away, it's not their fault that they can't be what people want them to be, you know? They are what they are, why do they have to change to fit in with other people's perspective on what's perfect and what's not." Harry huffed, causing Neville to giggle. 

Harry beamed at the sound, he had made his new friend laugh! He was so proud of himself he momentarily forgot what he was talking about.

"So you like finding things? Badgers are good at finding things, are you hopping to get into Hufflepuff? " Neville asked the green eyed boy who scratched his chin in thought.

"That's the house of the loyal and hardworking right?"

"Uh, yeah, that's the main traits of a Hufflepuff. "

Harry nodded firmly. 

"Then, yeah, that's where I wanna go. Then everyone will know that I'd make a great friend. What better friend could you get than a loyal one?"

Neville shrugged, "I dunno, I'm sure you'll make lots of good friends though."

Harry shook his head, lips pressed onto a pout.

"I don't want lots of good friends, one or two great friends is enough for me. You make a great friend Neville."

Harry missed the way Neville gapped at him in astonishment. He didn't know, that with that one comment he had cemented a friend for life. A loyal friend that would follow him anywhere. 

Neville was the only on unsurprised when Harry ended up in Hufflepuff. Harry was the only one unsurprised to see Neville end up in Hufflepuff. Everyone was surprised by the easy going friendship the two first year Hufflepuffs developed.


	7. Fun times

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where magic gets weird and people are weirded out. Harry and Neville just want to have fun~

Many a teacher at Hogwarts would say the first day of school with Harry Potter was as close to a disaster as they could handle. Harry thought everything went brilliantly. Neville was in totally agreement. He might be biased though.

Harry loved transfiguration! They were suppose to turn a match into a needle witch was pretty easy because needles are shiny and Harry liked shiny things. But then Harry was bored since no one else had turned their match into a needle just yet.

Harry studied Neville, his fluffy haired best friend had his nose scrunched up adorably, his brows furrowed in consecration and his lips pursed in a pout. 

_So cute~_

Death was laughing again. Harry didn't know why and didn't bother asking. He was smiling as he gazed at his frustrated friend who was reminding him more and more of a frustrated hedge hog. And adorably frustrated hedge hog.

Harry could just imagine Neville with short spiky quills on his head instead of hair. They'd be shiny though. Like needles. Neville would look so awesome with shiny needles for hair. _Fluffy_ shiny needles.

The scream McGonacall let out when she turned and saw Neville's new spiky hairdo would be like the death Knell for the chaos that would be brought from the terror that is Harry Potter with the knowledge that is magic. Many a screams of future fearfull's would ring out like an echo of McGonacall's terrified wail.

* * *

Charms didn't go much better. There wasn't a single item in that class that wasn't airborne that day. What happened in Charms stayed in Charms. People would wander about the singed firsties that stumbled, shivering out of their very first charms class, blubbering nonsense and staring into space as if their in tire life's views had been ripped to shreds right in front of their faces. Not even Dumbledore could pry that story out of any student let alone Filius Flitwick, the teacher himself.

On a remarkably unrelated note, Madame Poppy ran out of calming drought faster on the first day of that year than she normally did by the end years exams. 

On another page entirely, none of the first year Hufflepuff's or Ravenclaws would even touch their brooms, citing a terrible fear of heights. All but two of course. Harry and Neville were the only ones to pass that class on their first try.

* * *

Potion class was remarkably the only class that didn't end in disaster. Sort of.

"Mr. Potter, Mr, Longbottem, what on Earth happens to your hair?" Proffesor Snape demanded.

Harry sported shiny green streaks in his hair with the pride of a King. Professor McGonacall never did get to fixing Neville's hair.

"I'm a plant today, Professor! Isn't that cool? Neville gave me the stripes, their awesome!" There was that slightly dazed smile, the slight swaying like, surprisingly Harry's eyes didn't wander around in the slightly lost look he normally sported. 

In fact the boy looked remarkably _there,_ in the short time the Potion Master had spent with the boy, he had always looked a little lost, like some part of him wasn't entirely _here._

"I'm a h-hedge h-hog." The stuttering boy looked up at his intimidating Professor with huge brown eyes, half latched onto the other boy.

The two boys found themselves ushered to a table in the corner of the room closest to the Professors desk, a desk normally reserved for troublemakers. He would claim till his dying day he only set them there to keep an eye on the two new obviously troublemakers.

* * *

As for the class with plants? Who's name everyone forced out of their minds in sheer terror? The fact that they can't even remember the name will always prove it was a hundred times more traumatising than Charms.

As for DADA, no one was really sure. It seemed fine in every way. No explosions, loss of limbs or even dead bodies. 

The next day Professor Quirrel disappeared without a trace. Death laughed in the back of Harry's mind Harry didn't ask why. Why would he? Death laughed all the time for no reason at all.


End file.
